


Sharing

by RainingInExile



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Allegedly faked British accent, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, It's all filthy lies and slander, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainingInExile/pseuds/RainingInExile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames calls Arthur late one night to help him pick up a girl in a bar. Arthur is less than amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing

Arthur wakes to the ring of his phone and an unfamiliar number on the screen. This is not surprising, since most of the people he works with change their numbers like they change their shirts.

He answers and gets only halfway through ‘hello’ when he’s cut off by a familiar English accent over the loud buzz of a crowd in the background. A probably very inebriated crowd if the music and Eames’ slurring are anything to go by.

“Arthur! Arthur you’re there!” Eames exclaims, sounding delighted and accomplished.

Arthur hangs up, dropping the phone back onto the hotel nightstand and rolling over.

It rings again, and Arthur does his best to ignore it.

The third time Eames tries to call him, Arthur picks up again, holding the phone a few inches from his face so that he can glare at it while Eames’ small, tinny voice barely reaches him.

“Arthur you need to convince them!” Eames declares. “You need to convince- what’s your name again?”

Someone says something in the background.

“Right, thanks. Arthur, you need to convince Marie that I’m really, actually English! She doesn't believe me Arthur!” Eames whines, drawing out the ‘believe’. “She thinks I’m faking my accent!”

“Put her on the phone.” Arthur deadpans, moving the phone to his actual ear.

“Here, love.” He hears faintly as Eames presumably passes over the phone.

“Hello?” Says a slightly confused sounding girl with southern American accent. Arthur scowls.

“He doesn't really like you. He’s married with three small children that he should be going home to instead of being there with you and he won’t remember your name for more than a few minutes at a time. You should go home and rethink your life choices. Go back to school.” Arthur tells her as frankly as he can.

“He’s also not actually English, he just does a half decent impression.” Arthur adds for good measure.

“Oh.” The girl on the other end says shakily, sounding like she might be considering tears.

“Pass the phone back and use the next few minutes to run away.” He instructs.

Eames’ voice comes back again a minute later, sounding puzzled. “Where on Earth did she get the idea that I have children?”

“I have no clue.” Arthur assures. “You should go back to wherever you’re staying and get to sleep. Also, if you ever call me again to help you pick up trash I’m going to give you a scar you can tell stories about.”

Eames laughs, the moron, and Arthur hangs up. This time Eames doesn't call him back, and a half hour later Arthur wakes again to footsteps across the hotel room carpet and a large weight falling onto the mattress beside him.

Arthur rolls onto his side, pointedly away from the drunk Englishman, and tries to ignore the quiet whimper behind him at the action.

Eames shifts to lie snug against Arthur’s back, a hand curling around his stomach and up under his thin shirt. His other arm ends up cushioning Arthur’s head as soft, plush lips track kisses over the back of his neck.

“You know I would have shared, right?” the man murmurs against his skin.

Arthur just sighs and grabs the man's hand, pulling Eames a tiny bit closer.


End file.
